Once upon a time, this blog was going to be all about my pet bird, when I got one. But I never did get that bird. So, now this blog is about the beautiful, curious things that keep me in a near-constant state of happy distraction. Ironically, many people find these writings when they wonder what "peristerophobia" means. It's a fear of pigeons. I've made a bird blog after all.

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Epiphany.

Here's a downright wrong way to celebrate my parents' wedding anniversary (thirty-seven years! and forty of being together! they are not just living the dream--they are the dream):

I think that, for the first time, after a decade of trying, I've finally come to understand Paul de Man's "Autobiography as De-Facement." I still don't agree with him, but now it's not because I think he's wrong. Now it's because I think he stops short of the real challenge. But oh! to be able to articulate that difference! is not at all a bad way to go toward one's afternoon.

Happy anniversary, beloveds.

Today: 1046 words (many of them, I think, what we in the business would call "theoretically sophisticated"), to which I can only say oh yeah! it's not even noon yet!

About Me

Annie Dillard could have been writing about me when she said (of herself), "I like the slants of light; I'm a collector." Or Willem de Kooning: "I'm like a slipping glimpser." And don't forget Brenda Ueland: "I learned that you should feel when writing, not like Lord Byron on a mountain top, but like a child stringing beads in kindergarten--happy, absorbed and quietly putting one bead on after another." But the Beastie Boys might have said it best: "When it comes to panache, I can't be beat." There's a reason I wear a ring that says Badass.